Taking the Wheel
by Gumby1011
Summary: Soldiers are still people, with innate weaknesses. Some of these weaknesses can cripple a mission, or endanger lives. Kentucky's in particular is just sort of silly, though.


It was going to be perfect. Kentucky bounced excitedly in the front passenger seat as the Warthog passed endless sand dunes to either side of the desert road. "I can't wait. Can't wait. Gonna have fun fun fun fun!" After a pause he turned towards the driver, wearing an insincere frown. "What's the deal with you? Why the long face?"

"Oh, I don't know, Kent. Maybe it's because _you chose to have our shore leave in the frickin' DESERT!_" Jersey spat out while driving the Warthog across sand dunes, her green eyes shifting to Kent before darting back on the road.

The weather in the desert was, as expected, blistering hot and the jeep's abysmal air conditioning did nothing to keep both Freelancers cool. As a result, sweat soaked through her gray tank top and it clung to her like a bathing suit.

Plus, the god-awful Mariachi music wasn't helping things.

"God, I don't know why I agreed to this," the female complained, "and to top it all off, you still haven't told me what we're doing here."

"That is for me to know and for you to know soon enough. You're just gonna have to forgive the locale, it was the most practical I could find for its original purpose." He looked down at his datapad and studied the map on its screen. "You're gonna wanna turn down... _that_ path there."

He indicated a small path that went off into a less-sandy part of the desert. Scraggy shrubs lined the entrance to it. "Still, it makes for a nice summer home... I mean, not _literally_... It gets even hotter during the summer." He fell silent, tapping his hands on his datapad to the music.

She eased onto the brakes and turned on the path before she commented, "If this place doesn't have a shower or cold drinks, I'm shooting you in the foot."

God knows she needed this. The Director rarely gave his own agents a shore leave and, after destroying an Insurgent facility along with a secret weapon, they earned it. Though, Jersey never expected Kentucky to come up to her for a favor.

Had she known he would take her into the desert, she would've flat-out said no. Part of her commended her partner for his deception. The other just wanted to give him another scar on his face.

A good ways down the road, the path led over a small crest in the landscape. From on top of the crest, one could see that the path led into a large depression in the rocky landscape, at the center of which was a building about the size of a small villa.

Kent chuckled as they drove closer. "Aaaah, there it is! Looks like the contractors followed the instructions to the letter. James must have been super-clear about any short-change attempts. Awesome!" He turned to face Jersey. "This, this is where all my money went ever since I got called in for the Project."

The sandstone structure stood at two-stories tall with small, square windows and large sliding doors on the front. Around the doors was a small porch-like area with a floor carved of sandstone and a roof of terracotta tiles. The roof on the top of the building, meanwhile, was flat and housed a bank of solar panels and a large satellite dish.

_Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all._

She expected some ramshackle tent in the middle of nowhere surrounded nothing but bright yellow sand. Then again, sleeping in barracks, tents, and her meager room on the Mother of Invention had made her standards extremely low over the years.

Kentucky popped open his door as soon as the jeep rolled to a stop. "Well, here we are! Home sweet home, paid for with only the most well-spent of Humanity's tax dollars." He threw up a hand to the building. "I like to call it the Bluegrass Estate!" He turned to face it fully and put a hand to his chin. "Now, I say we kick the AC into gear and get that cold water cooling, eh?"

Jersey just sighed as she stepped out of the car with her duffel bag crammed with the bare essentials. Extra sets of clothes, among other necessities. "Yeah, I am so frickin' thirsty."

Kentucky flipped out a key-ring and unlocked the front door before sliding it open. Inside is what looked rather like a large living room. "The way I figure it, we can just chill for the rest of today." He walked over to a small console jutting out from the far wall and began punching in commands. Lights came on and a low-pitched humming started somewhere in the distance. "And then we can get to practicing tomorrow, right?"

"Uh yeah, sure, whatever. Oh, wow." It wasn't as lavish as she thought, but it still was impressive. A huge black sofa and a dark wood coffee table adorned the living room area along with a 70-inch widescreen plasma TV along with a small kitchenette with a stove, a working sink and a refrigerator filled with fresh food and drink.

Jersey made a beeline for the fridge, feeling a rush of cool air sneaking into her shirt as she opened it. She pulled out a can of Mountain Dew Plasma and downed the entire can like it was her first drink in ages. Driving an hour in the arid desert heat had made her parched beyond all reasoning.

"Damn, hadn't had one of these in a long time." she said, bringing out two more and throwing one to Kent.

Kent caught it before he plopped down on the sofa and chuckled. "Glad you like it." He propped himself up against one of the arms before taking out his datapad and powering it up. He stared at the screen as he slowly flipped through the pages, suddenly completely absorbed.

After downing a second can, a much-needed shower, and a fresh set of clothes, Jersey also plopped down on the sofa, kicked up her bare feet on the coffee table and switched on the TV.

"_What up guys? This is your hosts Jack and Geoff from Major League Grifball, coming at you live from Melbourne, Australia! Such fantastic weather for today's game, ain't that right, Geoff?"_

"_Damn right it is Jack, and I've gotta say I don't think I've ever heard a crowd as loud as this in all my time commentating. You've gotta admit, whether it's cheers or jeers, everybody's making a TON of noise over the premier of Team Rampancy's new roster!"_

She hadn't watched Grifball in ages! Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she had relaxed like this.

But, first things first.

"By the way," she nudged Kent after opening up her third can of Mountain Dew Plasma, "You still haven't told me what the favor was."

"Hm?" Kent glanced up from his datapad. "Oh, right. That. You know, nothing major. I've just got a few errands I need help running. Grocery shopping, cashing a few checks, driving lessons, gotta get some yard work done... you know, those sort of things.

"Oh, okay," It wasn't until she took a second swig of her drink when it dawned on her, "Wait, what was that?"

"Yard work."

"Before that."

"Cashing a few checks."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, "After that!"

"I don't know how to drive, so I need you to teach me."

Silence reigned over the room for a few seconds, as Jersey stared at Kent in disbelief. Kent, totally oblivious, just continued working on his datapad. Or at least, he did until he felt the confused stare boring holes in his forehead. He put the device down. "What?"

"Let me see if I have this straight. You're a Freelancer."

"Yeah."

"You're an elite soldier, one of the best and brightest that humanity has to offer."

"Debatable, but that's the general consensus, yes."

"You make a habit of wiping out our enemies with nothing but a small satchel of custom-made bombs and a fuel rod gun."

"Uh-huh."

"...and you're gonna sit there and honestly tell me that you don't know drive a car."

Kent took a deep breath and put the datapad down on the couch. "Look, before I joined the military, my world was pretty small. Literally. I lived on a space station. We didn't have cars. We didn't need cars. We didn't have any roads! And after I enlisted, it was always somebody else who was driving. It never really came up before now, you know?"

"Alright, now for the all-important question, why me?" Jersey asked, "You could've asked York, North or even the Director."

"Well, North already had plans, and York... it's just, have you _seen_ how he drives?" Kent shuddered at the thought. "I don't scare easy, but that's some scary shit." After a brief pause he added. "And the Director?... I mean, _seriously?_ Long story short, I trust your ability as well as your not-scariness."

_Not-scariness? Did he forget the time I went ballistic when Penn called me "flat chested?"_

"So, whaddya say?" Kentucky offered his comrade a hand. "Can you help me out?"

Jersey glared at him with a cockeyed look, but then sighed, as a mother would toward her child when he asked for a new toy or bike, "Alright, fine."

Kentucky pumped his fist. "Awesome! Thank you for your cooperation, you have no idea how much this means to me!" He grinned as he took up the datapad again. "Alright, now you enjoy the rest of your evening, I've got studying to do!"

"Don't get too excited." she said, going back to the Grifball game that had just started.

It was then she took a small peek at Kent's datapad, curious what he was reading that tore him from a game between Teams Heretic and Rampancy.

Her eyes went wide, as she looked on to a rather explosion-heavy car-chase. "What the HELL is that?!"

Kent jumped in surprise. "What?"

'Let me rephrase: Why are you watching action flicks?"

Kentucky shrugged, a bit surprised by Jersey's surprise. "Well... it's a driving movie. _Faster than Furious._ I mean, lead by example, right?"

She put her hand on her forehead, "Oh, this is gonna be an uphill battle."

* * *

He stood just outside, waiting, bouncing up and down excitedly while he waited. Every once in a while his gaze drifted back over to the garage behind the sandstone building. It had been a really long time. He glanced down at his watch. _8:05 AM_. He'd been standing outside for about an hour now. _Oh, can't wait! I wonder what's taking so long?_

He looked down at his empty coffee mug and shrugged. "Oh well. better get a refill!"

Meanwhile, inside the villa, Jersey groaned as she finally got out of bed, groggy and irritable. After her usual daily ritual of brushing her teeth and washing her face., her mood brightened a bit while she went into the kitchen for breakfast. She made a grilled peanut butter sandwich with bananas and bacon mixed in, along with a hot mug of coffee.

As Kent came across the coffee maker, there was a grilled sandwich waiting for him. "Huh, someone's bright and early this morning." Jersey commented, sipping her coffee.

"Whaaaaat? Pshaw, It's not even close to early! I've been up for about an hour." Kent poured himself another mug of coffee. "So, you ready to go? I'm ready to go! I'm friggin' PSYCHED!"

Jersey gave her fellow Freelancer an odd look, "Uh, Kent, just how many cups of coffee have you had?"

The man's manic grin faltered for a moment. "Uh, I don't know, like... uh... a lot." Then his eyes shot down to the sandwich waiting on the counter. "OOH! Hello there!" He scooped it up and took a chomp out of it without so much as a second thought.

"Alright, I saw a garage behind the little house here," Jersey said after finishing up her breakfast, "Is that where we're gonna start?"

"That is indeed correct!" Kentucky chirped. "Can't learn to drive without a car, right?" He headed back outside the house and led Jersey around to the garage. Before actually opening the garage he turned to face his fellow agent. "It took some doing to get a hold of her, but she's all mine!" He hit a little remote button in his hand, and the rusty garage door squeaked open. "Whaddya think?"

Jersey gazed upon the sin against all vehicles. _I...have a bad feeling about this._

One of the front tires was flat, half the rear bumper was missing and eaten away by rust. The windshield had been cracked in two. A note taped to the steering wheel said something about needing "headlight fluid." On the surviving half of the rear bumper, a new bumper sticker had been added that said "Bonomo Demolition Co., honk for free samples!"

_Scratch that, I have a __**really**_ _bad feeling about this._

Kent giggled as he beheld the "car." He pulled open the driver-side door with considerable effort before settling in behind the wheel. "Alrighty then, let's get this party started!"

"Hold it," Jersey raised a hand in protest, "I am not getting in that deathtrap."

"What?" Kentucky looked around confusedly. "What deathtrap? I mean, _sure_ she's a little rough around the _edges,_ but it's nothing that we can't fix later!"

"A little?! That rust bucket's an inch away from the scrap heap." Jersey pointed to the front seats, "There aren't any seat belts and there's no brake pedal! You're gonna get yourself killed if you drive that thing!"

"Well, alright fine." Kentucky folded his arms and leaned back, a frown darkening his face. "I guess we could fix it up beforehand. But I still need something to learn to drive in!"

"We have a fully functional Warthog out front, Kent. We'll use that." She said going outside and getting into the passenger seat of said jeep.

Kent growled and murmured to himself the entire way back out front, all the way until he sat down in the driver's seat. "Alright. Now what?" he grumbled, his voice temporarily drained of his earlier enthusiasm.

"Alright, seat belt's first." She clicked hers into place as Kent did the same, "Then you need the key to turn on the engine." she dangled a pair of keys with a teal metal butterfly key chain.

"Okay, okay." Kent swiped the keys out of her hand. "I think I've got this part." He put them in the ignition and started the jeep. "See? Easy-peasy." Then he reached down and wrenched on the gear stick, eliciting a horrid grinding sound. "OH sweet Jesus, what was that!?" he yelped as he jumped in his seat.

"You forgot about the clutch, Kent." Jersey deadpanned, a hand pressed against her face.

Kent just blankly stared back. "The hell's a 'clutch'?"

"Ugh." Jersey rolled her eyes. "Alright, the clutch is that pedal right there." she pointed down at the floor on Kentucky's side of the jeep.

"Wait, the one on the top or the bottom?"

"The bottom one."

"Why are there six fucking pedals if you can only go in four directions?"

Jersey rolled her eyes before replying. "Alright, listen up: All UNSC vehicles have an Infinitely Variable Transmission, right? It's very complicated. I'm not sure how it works, but it pretty much lets you fine-tune how the individual gears run when you're driving the car-"

"That reminds me, I thought I was _supposed _to be driving a car?"

"Shut up, Kent, this is important."

* * *

Jersey looked up from the checklist she'd written up before taping it to the dashboard. "Got all of that?"

"Uh... I think so." Kent looked down at the controls of the jeep and pressed down on the clutch, before shifting the lever so that it was leaned towards '1.' About as soon as he let his foot off the clutch, the vehicle gently lurched forward. "Oh no, now what?"

"Just press the brake..."

"Right, the brake." Kentucky pressed down on a pedal, and the car started to go faster as the engine's whine distorted. "Aw, shit!"

Jersey grew a little panicked as they began picking up speed. "I said the brake! That's the IVT increase!"

"DAMN YOU PEDALS FOUR THROUGH SIX!" Kentucky adjusted his foot a bit and slammed down on the breaks, but not before a jarring _CLUNK_ came from beneath the jeep, followed by a loud droning noise. "... um... oops."

* * *

It was tough, making herself heard over the now-punctured muffler on the jeep, But Jersey wanted to make sure that Kent didn't have any more accidents. It was more of a stubborn vendetta than a favor by now, but that had never stopped her before.

The warthog slowly got up to speed over the flat, sandy landscape, and soon enough the RPM gauge was teasing the red. "Alright, now shift up." Jersey hollered over the roar of the unsuppressed engine.

"Up. Got it." Kent pressed on the clutch and pulled the stick away from '1'... before immediately throwing it over to '4.'

Jersey nearly jumped out of her seat. "Wait, _No! DON'T_-"

As the man's foot lifted from the clutch, the warthog squealed like a mechanical pig had been gang-stabbed, and the engine immediately died. The tires of the jeep locked in place, and while the forgiving sand gave way and kept the vehicle from flipping, this was little comfort to Jersey. She made sure to make this known as soon as they slid to a halt.

"WHY IN THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL WOULD YOU SKIP TWO FRICKIN' GEARS!?"

Kent shrugged, still shocked at how the car had reacted. "I just thought: why would we shift one at a time when we can just shift once and be done with it?"

Jersey let out a groan before smacking her head against the dashboard.

* * *

Jersey had spent the next day and a half making a makeshift driving course, complete with bright orange traffic cones and makeshift dummies that passed off as pedestrians.

Which was pretty difficult in the heat of the desert.

After another shower, a change of clothes, drinking Mountain Dew and eating a rather large meal, she stood outside, "Alright, Kent, time to learn the rules of the road."

"Alright, alright, let's do this!" Kent was bouncing up and down in his seat again. He had by now managed to learn how to drive the jeep from almost every technical aspect, and the morning's excitement had come back to him again.

She jumped into the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt into place, "Okay, seat belt first. Good. Now start the car."

Kent turned the key and the jeep turned its engine.

"Now, the objective of this exercise is to make you don't hit any of the dummies or the traffic cones. The main difficulty of driving is not driving itself, but the people on the road. Now shift to drive and let's roll."

"Okey dokey, boss!" Kent threw the stick into first before pulling ahead, driving along the line that Jersey had traced in the sand. He had finally managed to finagled a pretty good feel for controlling the metal beast, this simple little part would be totally easy!

Probably.

"Okay," the female spoke up, testing his knowledge of the handbook she gave him last night, "Which side of the road do you go on a one way street?"

"The..." Kentucky scratched his head. "What? You can go on either side as long as you're driving the right direction... right?"

"Correct. And if it's a two-way street?"

"Um...the right side?"

"Good. Keep your eyes on the road."

The warning came as Kent managed to scrape by a dummy and left it intact.

"Saved it! Saved it." Kentucky mumbled to himself before stopping for a cardboard sign. He then put his blinker on before following the line off to the right.

So far, he had followed every rule, stopping at "STOP" signs, avoiding "pedestrians" and traffic cones. It seemed like he would pass with flying colors.

"Now, last question: You're driving and you hear a police car siren. What do you do?"

A manic glint shone in Kent's eyes, and his foot slammed into the pedal. "FLOOR IT!" With an unrestrained roar, the Jeep took off at high speeds, Kent cackling before screaming "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!"

"OH DANTE ON A FLOAT! KENT!" Jersey hollered over the loud engines as the jeep ran over stop signs, traffic cones, and even dummies at blinding speed.

Kent, meanwhile had fallen into his own little world. "I can't shake him!" he shot a glance over his shoulder at the cops that weren't there. "We're gonna have to jump!" he then spun the Jeep around in a surprisingly tight turn... before barreling straight at a sharply sloped sand dune.

"Oh, fu-!" Jersey immediately ripped her seat belt off and jumped out the window. She tucked herself into a ball and rolled in the sand as the jeep crashed into the sand dune with a metal-crunching CRASH!

There were no words for what happened next. She just blurted out the first words that came to her head.

"KENT! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!"

It took her a moment to realize he wasn't around to hear her. Then she hear a cry of "OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING!?"

She hustled over the dune to find Kent, sprawled out on the sand, the fiery wreck of the jeep a few feet behind him. Thankfully, the doorless warthog had let him get thrown out of the side on impact. Apparently. He laid on the ground, bumped and bruised but otherwise okay.

"Kent, when a police car has its siren on, you pull over to the side, not floor it like a cheesy action hero," Jersey said, slapping him at the back of the head out of anger and frustration.

"Pull over? _Pull over!?_ Why would I pull over!?" Kent threw his hands up in the air. "All the cops ever do is try to kill you, or lock you up and take back the money, or worse: wreck your custom, one of a kind, irreplaceable Swagmobile!" Then Kentucky looked over at the wreckage.

"... Um, wait-"

"That's it. No more _Faster than Furious_ movie for you." Jersey pulled out his datapad, tapped a few keys and deleted the movie from his playlist, "Why in God's name would you watch this crap?"

"But Joooiiiseeey!" Kent whined with a pout, "That was my favorite movie..."

"And by the way, that right there," she pointed to the mangled metal wreck, "that was your fault!"

"Well, I... um... I'm sorry?" Kent scratched the back of his head. "I guess we're just gonna have to call out for a ride."

Jersey shot him a look before throwing the datapad back at him. "Call _who?_ You already said everyone else was busy."

Kentucky touched his pointer fingers together, bashfully. "That _may_ not have been _technically_ true..."

* * *

At the end of their leave, Kent and Jersey stood waiting outside the house, holding their bags. Not a word was said, until a certain man with brown, flipped-up hair, a scar on his eye, and a friendly smile pulled up in a warthog. "You guys need a ride?"

"York?" She blurted, "you're our ride back home? Also, shotgun!"

"Shotgun! FUCK!" Kent drooped down a bit in disappointment. "And yeah, he's our ride."

York leaned a little further out of the car, the ever-present grin on his face. "Is that a problem, miss?"

"Oh, it's not a problem," Jersey said, putting her duffel bag in the back, and hopping into the front passenger seat, "It's just Kent thinks you're a horrible driver or something."

The smile turned into a skeptical smirk, And York settled back into his seat. "Yeah..." He shot a look at the twisted, charred Warthog in the distance. "And Kent would know."

Kent just chuckled nervously. "Ah... nope. Apparently not. But hey! At least I know driving now, so that's _some_ progress!"

York kept gazing over at the roasted jeep. "Yeah. 'Progress.' I suppose _you_ would call it that."

Jersey turned back to face Kent as he climbed in. "Hey, you know what? I bet _York_ doesn't crash into sand dunes while being chased by imaginary cops." she snapped. York just gave her a confused look, "I'll explain on the way back."

"Well, I look forward to the telling. Now, you might wanna hang on to something, we're a bit behind schedule." Then without even waiting for a response, York started ripping out down the trail to the road with a flurry of flung sand.


End file.
